


(O is for) Olive Branch

by theclaravoyant



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AAC - Scripting (assistive speech tool), Brotp, Brotp bonding, Gen, Set 2x06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 01:37:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7413499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theclaravoyant/pseuds/theclaravoyant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mack and Simmons lay down their pitchforks.</p><p>Set S2, after 2x06.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(O is for) Olive Branch

Works in conjunction with [A Thousand Words](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7218796) but stands alone well.

-

Mack couldn’t sleep.

Maybe it was the sight of Bobbi – back, safe, sure; but all the same, a reminder of the precarious situation they were now in. Not to mention, a reminder of the double layers of Shield that they were both playing. A reminder of the impending betrayal that could be revealed any day now – not that he had ever intended it to be a betrayal; it was just that there was no doubt in his mind that Fitz, at the very least, would be unable to see it as anything but.

Mack rolled. And rolled again. He really needed to campaign for better mattresses. He really needed to do a lot of things. Like call his brother. And tell the truth.

He sighed, and sat up. He stretched his shoulders and rubbed his eyes. Every spy got the impulse to give themselves up once in a while. He’d had it a few times himself, and found the best way to deal with it was to work it off.

Going to the garage would only make him think about Fitz more, and about the way his eyes found the floor and his voice became bitter, tight and vitriolic whenever he talked about Ward. The earth was well and truly salted on that front and, selfish though it may be, Mack was not eager to burn this relationship to the ground until – unless – he absolutely had to.

Mack headed toward the gym instead, hoping some weight reps would clear his head sufficiently. Approaching the doorway, though, he heard somebody else already in the room. On the mat, by the sounds of things doing something repetitive; push ups or sit ups, most likely. Mack frowned. The movements were lighter than he was familiar with. Maybe Skye was up? No, the breathing was wrong.

His question was answered when, in between huffs and pants, the soft, primly accented voice of Jemma Simmons began to speak.

“A is for – A is for apple is for aqueous solution…B – B is for blue – is for biological sample…C is for cat – No, C is for clue is for cataclysmic variable…D is for…D…is for…”

Muttering to herself, Simmons unfurled, and checked the list.

“D is for duck is for dextrorotatory enantiomer. Dextrorotatory enantiomer. How did he get duck from that?”

She frowned into empty space, wondering what rapid downward movement or waterfowl could have to do with the rotation of polarized light. Maybe something to do with the association with water?

A knock at the doorway made her jump and spin, as if being caught with Fitz’ scripting notes outside the lab would get her into some sort of trouble. When she saw who it was, she pressed her lips together and squared her shoulders. She wasn’t in the mood for getting attacked tonight.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she prodded sharply.

“Neither could you, apparently.” Mack shrugged, but stepped further into the space. Simmons almost felt like baring her teeth. This was his space more than it was hers, but nothing felt like hers anymore. No matter where she went, she was cornered. She shielded the file of notes, holding onto what privacy she could.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded. “Shouldn’t you be in the garage? Fitz will be there if he can’t sleep. Maybe the two of you can build a shelf together while I torture helpless rabbits or whatever it is you seem to think I do.”

“Hey, I never said anything about rabbits,” Mack pointed out. “You don’t look like the animal torturing type. And I don’t think Fitz would like you as much if you were.”

Simmons frowned.

“Fitz?”

“Gave me an earful about the way I’ve been talking about you. He’s pissed off but he still thinks the sun shines out your ass. If we’re being honest, I don’t get it. Somebody walked away from me like that? And lied about it? I’d drop them like _that._ He must be pretty far gone, the way he’s acting, and you… leading him on like this? It’s not good for him.”

Simmons scoffed. And scoffed again, for good measure.

“Leading him on? Are you serious?” She blinked, awestruck. “I haven’t brought up the issue because he’s been busy _recovering from a serious head injury_ and I’ve been _undercover under threat of death_ and that’s leading him on? And - _and -_ _even_ if I was, do you honestly think he wouldn’t defend me if he didn’t think I loved him back? I’m his best friend! At least, I was, for a good decade before you came along. Do you think that means nothing to him? Or to me?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

She glared at him.

“Okay. Maybe it is. I just…don’t understand why he’s willing to rip Ward’s throat out and not yours? Sue me.”

“You think Ward and me are the same?”

Tears filled her eyes.

 _“No,”_ Mack insisted. “Not objectively. It’s just. What you did to Fitz and what Ward did…I mean, betraying him. Lying. Abandoning him like that.”

More tears. She blinked furiously, trying to see through them, but she couldn’t stop them filling her voice.

“I did what I did because I love him. Because I care about him. Some parts of it were wrong, I shouldn’t have lied, I know that now but I did my best. I was trying to help. Ward was always planning to lie. He was _always_ planning to betray us – _both_ of us – and he was _always_ ready to kill us if necessary. If Fitz can see that and you can’t there’s nothing I can do about that, but if you put me and Ward in the same category ever again –“

“You’ll what? Fight me?”

Simmons sniffed. Why had he decided to find her in the middle of the night, when she was tired and vulnerable, and how had he known to hit her in all the places it hurt the most?

Mack hung his head, in part to give Simmons some privacy and in part to think over his own defensiveness. Of course, he wanted to protect Fitz, but was he not also about to do the same thing? Could it be he was even jealous? Jealous and scared, probably, that her relationship with him was going to bounce back and he doubted that his ever could? Romantic love or not, Fitz and Simmons had been notoriously close for a good decade. For almost half their lives. He’d only been involved in Fitz’ life for a few months. How could he ever hope to salvage that once he broke it? Shouldn’t he be asking Simmons for tips on how to soothe Fitz’ wounds before he inflicted them, rather than wounding her as well?

Gathering herself, Simmons’ attention fell to the binder of notes to which she so tightly clung. In places where Fitz’ handwriting had become too messy to read, there were other notes. Mack’s notes, she realised as she observed the curve and slant of his script. Mack’s notes, because he had been here when she hadn’t, and he had helped Fitz learn to work around his disability instead of trying to push through it all the time. Maybe, if she had thought of such a thing, she would never have had to leave in the first place and all this heartache could have been saved. Shouldn’t she be asking Mack for tips on how to treat Fitz as he was now, instead of constantly fighting on her own against her perceptions of the world? Was it not true that to learn, one had to seek teaching?

“I’m sorry,” she said, looking up to meet Mack’s face at the same time he spoke.

“I’m sorry.”

Simmons smiled gently, and Mack mirrored her. He gestured for her to speak first.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so defensive. I just wanted to help and it…it hurts, I guess, to know it didn’t really work. You’ve been better for him than I was and I don’t really want to acknowledge that even though you deserve it. Like I said before, thanks for being his friend. That’s all.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve been defensive too, and not just for Fitz’ sake. I guess…” Mack took a deep breath. How to do this without giving them away? “I guess I’ve been through a lot of betrayals in my time, I’ve lost friends to them and stuff you know, I’m a bit…hyperaware. And I’m a bit…sad – jealous maybe – that some of my relationships didn’t…and maybe won’t…come out of it like you guys did.”

Simmons rolled her eyes a little, and dabbed at them with her sleeve.

“I’d hardly say we’re sunshine and roses,” she pointed out. “We’ve got a long way to go.”

“At least you’re on the right track?” Mack offered. Simmons nodded. Her grip tightened around the file, until finally she took a deep breath and held it out.

“I was wondering if – if you might help me with this? I’m having trouble remembering some of the items. They don’t seem connected to me.”

“It’s not about connection, really,” Mack explained. “Just about short words. Being easier to say so work gets done faster and Fitz gets less worked up.”

“Oh.” Simmons nodded. “So I guess it’s ROTE learning for me, then.”

“I guess so.”

“Wanna get started?”

“Why not? We’re both up.”

Mack shrugged in agreement.

“Do you mind spotting my sit-ups?”

“Sure.”

Simmons resumed her position on the mat and Mack stood by her feet so she was less likely to slip out of formation. He held the file in one hand just in case, and Simmons started her recitation again, calling on him to prompt her when she needed it. She must have done a hundred reps by the time exhaustion wore her down, but by then she had half the alphabet committed.

Panting, Simmons gratefully accepted the glass of water Mack offered. With a weary smile she took the file back, to return it to the lab, and asked:

“Same time tomorrow?”


End file.
